


Looking Beyond

by Lanerose



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-12-11
Updated: 2006-12-11
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanerose/pseuds/Lanerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Significant tennis matches in the lives of Atobe and Tezuka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking Beyond

Atobe was nine the first time he met Tezuka, and bored out of his mind. The afternoon function their parents had dragged them both to was, for Atobe, the latest in a string of unfortunate wastes of his time. Few other children traveled in the Atobe family circle. Of those that do, about half spent their time making out and drinking. The other half spent their time hiding from their nannies. Needless to say, the Atobe heir looked upon them all in equal disdain.

Chance led Atobe to the family of the day’s balcony. He escaped into the cool air, hoping for a few moments away from all the phony people with their fake smiles. Keigo noticed the other boy instantly, and at first, all he felt was annoyance. His irritation quickly turned to surprise, though, when he realized that the other boy was about his height and (probably) about his age.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tezuka, for his part, had been standing near the balcony railing and staring wistfully at the tennis courts below, trying to imagine the kind of game played on them. He had seen it in passing – rackets, and balls, and people on one side of the net playing against people on the other. As he pictured pairs playing, he wondered what it would be like to never come near your opponent, to learn skills that he wouldn’t have to take care not to injure people with. What it would be like to wield a racket, rather than a fist.

“It’s a little cold for tennis, isn’t it?”

Tezuka jumped at the sound of the voice, his head swinging quickly in the direction of its source as he berated himself for being careless about his surroundings. A boy his age with pale hair leaned back carelessly against the balcony railing about five feet to his left. The boy watched him, a smirk crossing his face. Tezuka frowned – another stupid rich kid to make nice with.

“I wouldn’t know,” he said stiffly, eyeing the other boy cautiously.

“Atobe Keigo,” his unwanted companion replied. The name meant nothing, and Tezuka had no doubt that the blank expression on his face conveyed that fact. The boy shrugged and smiled. “Haven’t seen you at one of these before.”

“This is my first.” Tezuka turned away then, and returned to eyeing the green clay before him. Where there was no threat, there would be no harm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Atobe watched, eyes widening, as the other boy very clearly ignored him. No one, no one, ignored an Atobe – and yet here was some kid, with messy brown hair and glasses, pretending like he didn’t exist. This… had potential. Atobe turned around to look at the courts himself, trying to see what might be so fascinating about the empty clay. The last of the snows had melted away from them, but nothing seemed to have been revealed in its wake.

After a moment, he glanced at the as yet unknown boy beside him. Atobe noted that he stood very straight, and very still. More, though, the boy seemed… entranced, almost, by something that Atobe himself just couldn’t see. He shook his head.

“Would you like to play?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tezuka cursed himself for a fool as surprise shook him a second time when Atobe again tried to start a conversation. The words themselves took a moment longer to make it through than they should have. Atobe wanted to play tennis?

“Since I’m feeling generous today,” the boy continued, “I wouldn’t mind showing you a thing or two about the game.”

Tezuka stared blankly as the boy gesticulated wildly.

“I’ve never played before,” he said eventually. Atobe looked startled for a second, but then smirked once more.

“Then it’s good that the ever wonderful I shall be your first teacher!” He proclaimed, grabbing Tezuka’s arm and dragging him down the outer staircase. Tezuka was tempted to just throw the other boy off him, but… He told himself he didn’t because it would be impolite, that it had nothing to do with the game he was offered, and it’s possible that he may have actually believed that to be true at the time. Years later, he would admit the truth freely.

They reached the courts, and, after they had stripped off their suit jackets, Atobe quickly thrust a racket into his right hand.

“What shall I call you, my lowly student?” Atobe asked. Tezuka considered the number of ways he could hurt the arrogant brat with his racket for only the briefest of seconds. Then, with startlingly clarity, he recalled what it was about the game that had entranced him.

“Tezuka,” he replied softly, channeling the anger away. “Tezuka Kunimitsu.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Stand over there,” Atobe said, gesturing imperiously towards the far side of the court. The boy – Tezuka – walked around the net and stood roughly opposite of where Atobe himself stood. The light-haired boy smiled – his opponent got full marks for observational skills.

“The basics of the game are easy,” he called as he bounced the ball lazily against the court. “Use the racket to hit the ball over the net. Since we’re playing singles, you need to hit the ball within this first set of lines here.” He tapped his racket lightly against the inner line. “If it bounces more than once, you don’t hit it, or you hit it outside the lines, I get a point. Got it?”

Tezuka nodded once in affirmation. Atobe smirked, and then served underhand to Tezuka, aiming for his forehand side. The dark-haired boy lashed out with his racket, connecting to the ball and boosting it back over the net. The ball went wide, landing in the next court.

“Again.” The demand came across the net before Atobe had time to reach for the ball he’d stuck in his pocket. He stared at the boy who’d had the nerve to make a demand of him. Without quite knowing why, he found himself shaking his head and smiling before grabbing the second ball and preparing to feed him another ball when –

“WHAT are you boys doing out here?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was fortunate that they had not gotten very far in their game, because it meant that their clothing was still relatively unruffled. Tezuka took his parents’ berating with the uneasy sense that he very much deserved it. From the corner of his eye, he could see Atobe doing much the same. After hurried apologies and farewells, both families went to take their leave.

“Tezuka,” called the youngest of the Atobes as the two families went to part ways. Tezuka paused and waited. “Some day, when you know how to play, we’ll have a match.”

There was a lightness in the other boy’s eyes than, a lack of certainty that defied every earlier impression Tezuka had had of the other boy. He could feel his parents watching him then, waiting for him to say that he never intended to take up tennis, that he was far too busy with judo and school to add anything else to his schedule.

“Yes.” Tezuka said. Atobe smiled, face honestly bright, and let himself be pulled into the family limo. Tezuka joined his parents in their car, closing the door after himself. His mother’s hand landed on his shoulder, and Kunimitsu looked up at her. She smiled.

“I suppose this means we’ll need to look into a good tennis school for you,” she said.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Kunimitsu replied. “I could do tennis on the weekends and still practice with grandpa after school, couldn’t I?

She shook her head, but smiled encouragingly anyway before pulling her hand away. His father started the car, and off they drove. When Tezuka closed his eyes that night, all he could see was the green clay, white lines, and yellow ball of the first game he had ever really played.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 15_rackets challenge on livejournal.


End file.
